


#18

by hhopp



Series: Hhopp's Destiel Angst-a-Thon [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cas Whump, M/M, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-29 19:19:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10142147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hhopp/pseuds/hhopp
Summary: “You’re okay. Breathe. Just breathe. Open your eyes. Come back. It’s okay. It’s over now. You’re okay. Wake up. Please wake up. Don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to me. I love you so much. Come back.”





	

            They shouldn’t’ve brought him on the hunt. He was still reckless. He didn’t know how to fight while defending himself. This was stupid, such a stupid, stupid idea.

 

            When the spirit flung him into the wall of the crypt, he crumpled like a paper sack filled with rocks. Just… dropped to the ground. A red flower opened up on the side of his face, blooming bigger and bigger. 

 

            “Cas!” He dropped the iron pipe and flew across the grass. If he’d had any less practice at moving this quickly, he’d have tripped over himself in his haste. The beauty of working in a trio was that Sam could fight the ghost while Dean took care of their fallen angel. Blue eyes were already closed by the time he got to his side. “You’re okay. Breathe. Just breathe.” He rolled him over, trench coat tangling around his arms.

 

            “Is he alive?” Sam grunted, swinging at the spirit. 

 

            “I don’t know, I— I don’t know.” He checked for a pulse. Was that really there or just his imagination? It had to be real. He wouldn’t imagine something so shallow. “Hey. Cas. Open your eyes. Come back. It’s okay.” Behind him, Sam dropped the match and the body went up in flames. “It’s okay. It’s over now. You’re okay.”

 

            “Get his head up above his heart, Dean.”

 

            “I know,” he snapped. “I know.” He fussed his fingers over the cut. That was a lot of blood. His dad’s voice echoed through his head— _head wounds always bleed more_. This much, though? He’d had his share of cuts and concussions, but there had never been this much blood. The air around them was starting to smell coppery. “It’s over now. You’re okay. Wake up. Please wake up. Don’t do this to me.”

 

            “I’ll get the fist aid kit.”

 

            The first aid kit wasn’t going to do much good if he was already dead. 

 

            “Don’t do this to me,” he repeated. “Don’t do this to me.” When Sam died, his grief was loud, messy. Somehow it was different with Cas. “I love you so much. Come back.” The last bit was nearly silent, a prayer whispered against his forehead, in between kisses. Maybe those stupid fairytales his mother had told him as an anklebiter had some weight. Maybe, just maybe. He was willing to try anything at this point. “Come on, Cas. Wake up. You’re fine. You’re okay. Just open your eyes. Open your eyes for me.”

 

            “Dean.”

 

            “No, he’s fine. He’s okay, just give him a minute.”

 

            “Dean, it’s over.” 

 

            He whirled on his brother. “It’s not! He’s fine. Everything’s fine. He’s just asleep.” He braced himself, like a frame, grip hard on the unconscious man’s shoulders. It was when Sam touched his arm that he drooped, limp, folding around Cas’ lax form. “I love him,” he croaked. 

 

            “I know.” He let go of his angel and gripped his brother’s leg. It was the one steady, stable thing left in this nightmare, and he held fast. He didn’t so much shake as tremble, the sobs wrenching through him not making a sound. His ribs squeezed around his lungs like an iron band and his throat felt swollen shut. “I know, Dean.”

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing. Kudos, Comments, you know the drill if you've ever read an author's note before.


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